


Lyarra's Goodsisters

by orphan_account



Series: Changing Winds [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Female Jon Snow, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Walder Frey being a creep, trust me I'm doing you a favour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: War has come to Westeros and two young lovers must navigate the Game of Thrones. In war, marriages are the best way to make alliances and with marriages come goodfamilies, for better or worse.Covers the events of the WotFK and beyond.
Relationships: Asha Greyjoy & Theon Greyjoy, Jon Snow & Robb Stark, Robb Stark/Roslin Frey (minor), Theon Greyjoy & Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy/fem!Jon Snow
Series: Changing Winds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561912
Comments: 35
Kudos: 150
Collections: Jon Snow is female





	1. Lyarra I - The Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lya reminisces about where she's been the past year and an agreement is made at the Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is finally. This is the sequel to Defending Lyarra’s Honour, which I would recommend you read before this.
> 
> This story will cover the events of the WotFK from Lya and Theon’s perspectives as well as some chapters from others. The title and tags probably hint about some aspects of the plot, but I’ll let you speculate. I’m following book canon as closely as I can, with some adjustments but if I don’t show it or say otherwise all events happen as in canon. As such there is some dialogue in this chapter taken or adapted from Catelyn IX. In the first part of this chapter I try to recap where Lya’s been since the last fic.
> 
> I wrote this in the last fic but I’ll put it here as well just in case this is the first time someone’s reading this series: the underage warning is there because under Ao3’s rules any relationship involving a person under 18 is underage. But in my opinion (and according to the law where I live) anyone 16 or over is a consenting adult and therefore Lya is a consenting adult in her relationship. If that makes you uncomfortable then don’t read.
> 
> The other warning is that this chapter has Walder Frey being a creep in it. If that makes you uncomfortable then skip the section where they go into the great hall, they recap it when they go back to Robb anyway.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.

As Lyarra admired the twin castles that straddled the Trident on the second day of the new year, 299 AC, she reminisced of where her travels had taken her this past year. Before then she had never travelled outside the North, she had only accompanied her father on the occasional visit to his vassals. She knew that she was born in one of the southern kingdoms and that therefore her mother came from there as well, but not which one, only that her father had returned from war with her in tow.

This was on her mind when she sailed to King’s Landing after the attempt on Bran’s life. The decision had been made that Lady Catelyn would visit her sister in the Eyrie and press her for information while Lya inform her father. The thinking being that while it was suspicious for Lady Stark to appear in King’s Landing without reason, Lya could easily go with Ser Rodrik as escort under the guise that she was sent away by Lady Catelyn and leave just as easily ‘under orders from her father to return’.

After learning who sent the catspaw, she and Ser Rodrik travelled on horseback up the King’s Road. In a moment of rage, she had arrested Tyrion Lannister on Lady Stark’s authority. On their journey to the Vale they were unaware that word of this got back to the Lion of the Rock and the Kingslayer. The former ordered an attack on the Riverlands while the latter attacked her father in the streets.

She ran her hands through Ghost’s fur. She felt entirely justified in the moment when she commanded Ghost to pounce on the dwarf. He came into their home, he was treated as a guest and then he ordered the death of her brother. She had every right to be angry and it was only just that he be punished. The ride to the Eyrie had given doubt the opportunity to creep in and it only increased as time passed. Did she make the right decision? She especially doubted it after meeting Lady Lysa Arryn, who breastfed her six-year-old son. How could any justice be delivered by that mad woman? She’d remarked to Lady Catelyn “Lady Lysa almost makes me thankful for never having a mother. I’d rather no mother than to still be breastfed at an age when I could easily walk to the kitchens and make my own meal.” It was the first time that she’d made Lady Catelyn laugh. When they heard the news about the Lannister’s retaliation, she realised her mistake. Now, as she stood staring at their only hope to save Lady Catelyn’s family home, she knew that while she could do nothing to change the past, she was determined to rectify her mistakes.

Lady Catelyn, Ser Rodrik and herself had reunited with her brother and his banners eight days past at Moat Cailin. Theon had shown her that night just how much he missed her. The march to Riverrun was slow going, especially with the conditions in the Neck. A rider had emerged from the swamp with a message for Robb and a gift for Lya, both from Howland Reed. She clutched the hilt of her new sword, it had become a habit since she received it. Clutching the hilt of her sword – which had yet to be named – sent an energy through her, it made her feel more powerful, more confident, she drew strength from it. The sword appeared to have been crafted for a woman’s hand and the hilt looked like it had been restored with leather wrappings in a crannogman style, but the blade was the most notable aspect. It was Valyrian steel, so fine that she almost rejected the gift on the basis that it was far too good for a bastard. The note that accompanied it changed her mind, Lord Reed had written that Lya’s father entrusted him with the sword and told him to give it to her if he felt she needed it. _‘Take this sword and use it well. Do not forget the words of your house.’_ A small part of her hoped that it had been her mother’s, at least then she had something of the yet unnamed woman.

The letter that he sent Robb was equally cryptic. It had the normal reassurances that the crannogmen would hold the Neck for him and that they remained faithful to House Stark. The latter half of the letter read _‘As you march south, keep one eye north. Winter is coming.’_

“Lya.” She was taken away from her thoughts by her brother’s voice. “I’d like your advice on this.”

Lya followed her brother back to the gathering of lords – and the ladys Mormont and Stark – deliberating on how to deal with Lord Frey as they approached the Twins.

“Lord Frey keeps four thousand men at the twins at present.” Robb began. “That can’t be enough to expect to fight the Lannisters on his own so he must mean to join his force to ours.”

“It’s not necessarily so.” His mother responded. “Expect nothing of Walder Frey, and you will never be surprised.”

“But he’s your father’s bannerman.”

“He hardly considers himself such. His favour switches between my father and the Lannisters like a wind vane.”

“Do you think he means to betray us to the Lannisters, my lady?” Robett Glover queried.

She sighed. “It’s as I said with Walder Frey and expectations, but the one thing that’s certain is that if we want to cross his bridge, he will exact his toll.”

Just then Theon approached the group, having returned from meeting with Brynden Tully –she had met him in the Eyrie and he quickly became her favourite Tully. He spared a look for her, thankfully he was discrete enough not to wink but she could see that he wanted to. “I’ve news from your uncle, Lady Catelyn. He’s crossed swords with the Lannisters, scouts and the like. Ser Addam Marbrand is pulling back his forces, burning the lands as he goes.”

“Good, when you return to him tell him to shoot down any ravens he sees from the Twins.”

“He’s already seeing to that, my lady. A couple more and we’ll have enough birds for a pie.” She couldn’t help but smile. Even at war, Theon still maintained his humour.

“Have any of Lord Walder’s men engaged with Ser Addam’s?”

“Not certain.” Theon shrugged. “There were a few Lannister scouts feeding the crows, might’ve been the Frey’s doing or another riverlord’s.”

“Perhaps that means he’s holding true to his vows. He’ll fight by our side.” Robb interjected.

Lady Catelyn didn’t agree. “He’s on the defence but whether he’s willing to make an offensive move against Tywin remains to be seen.”

“Has Ser Brynden found another way over the Green Fork?” Lya spoke up.

Theon shook his head. “The river’s running too high and too fast. The only way is through the Twins.”

“I must have that crossing!” Robb was slowly losing his composure.

“We have five times more men than him, we could easily storm the castle.” Theon suggested in his eager way.

“It’s a bottleneck. There’s a reason it has been held so long.” Lya hated to disappoint him. “Besides it would take too long even if we did try.”

“She’s right, that keep cannot be assaulted my lords.” The Roose Bolton agreed with her which felt odd.

Each lord studied the castle, the Greatjon cursed, Rickard Karstark just glowered at it like that would make it fall, and each lord agreed, storming it would be too difficult and too timely.

Her brother looked like he was searching for an answer. The three of them were new to this, lessons with Rodrik, Luwin, and her father were one thing, but this was another entirely. Like the boy he was he looked to his mother. “What would father do?”

“You know what he would do because he’s done it.” Lady Catelyn was steadfast. “He went to war for his sister and did anything and everything to save her.”

“Then I’ll storm the Twins if I have to.”

“That may not be necessary. Sometimes words can accomplish what swords cannot.” Lady Catelyn said sharply. “We may be able to negotiate a toll.”

“What’s the toll?”

“That’s something we can only find out by speaking to him.” It sounded like she was speaking about more than just money. She said that they were rich. Maybe the Freys had been collecting the toll for so long that they no longer needed to ask for money but for something more valuable.

As they were speaking, a party of a dozen knights approached from the Twins. Lady Catelyn informed the group that they were led by Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder’s eldest son. “My lord father has sent me to greet you and inquire as to who leads this mighty host.”

Robb stepped forward, Grey Wind proud at his side. “I do.”

Ser Stevron looked almost amused and Lya felt the urge to defend her big brother. “My father would be honoured to host you and allow you to explain your purpose here.”

All present could hear the underlying threat and the lack of a mention of bread and salt. Robb’s bannermen counselled him not to trust Lord Frey. Lya could see Lady Catelyn out of the corner of her eye, observing before she spoke. “I will go.”

“You, my lady?” The Greatjon sounded incredulous.

“Mother, are you certain?”

“Never more.” Lady Catelyn looked to her then. “Lyarra, you will accompany me.” Then her gaze returned to Stevron and the other men present. She declared confidently “Lord Walder is my father’s bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never do me any harm.”

Lya heard no such assurances for her. But if there was one thing she’d learnt in the past year, it was that Lady Stark knew these southern lords better than her and that calling her by her first name was a request of trust.

* * *

Despite the offer of dinner Stevron Frey had extended to Robb, they weren’t quite ready for them when they arrived at the Twins. This left Lyarra and Catelyn to wait in a side room with some of the Frey women.

Lord Walder’s young wife, Joyeuse was timidly conversing with Lady Catelyn. The poor thing was of an age with Lya but maybe it was true that bastards grew up quicker because she seemed no older than a child. Nevertheless, she was the lady of the house and that meant that it was expected of her to speak with Lady Stark. Meanwhile, Lyarra was expected to wait patiently.

She regretted not bringing a book with her. She’d left Ghost and her sword with Theon too. So, with no other entertainment she absent-mindedly traced the outlines of the flowers on her left sleeve while she wondered why Lady Catelyn had asked her to come. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice a figure take up the seat next to her until it spoke.

“Are you Lady Catelyn’s daughter?” She looked up to see a girl, no, a small woman, they were the same age. A Frey, if her brown hair and brown eyes were any indication. Out of instinct she looked to see whether Lady Stark had heard but she was halfway across the room.

“No. I’m Lyarra Snow. Lord Stark’s daughter, his bastard daughter.” The other woman’s mouth formed an ‘o’ in realisation. “Lady Stark’s daughters are in King’s Landing.”

“I’m Roslin, Lord Walder’s fifth daughter.” She noticed that Roslin had a gap in her front teeth which made her even more endearing.

“Are there really so many of you that you number yourselves?” She joked. She worried for a moment that it was offensive but thankfully Roslin laughed.

“Yes, I suppose it’s strange to those not in the family.” Roslin smiled. “The men are worse. They’re always on about how many people need to die for them to be Lord of the Crossing. Never in front of my father of course not that that stops him from knowing.”

She didn’t quite know how to respond to that. The idea that men would talk about their father or grandfather in that way and often enough that it was a joke they’d tell strangers. Maybe Lady Catelyn didn’t go far enough. It’s not just Lord Walder that you should lower your expectations for but the whole family. Roslin appeared to be the exception.

She must have been quiet for too long because Roslin spoke again. “I came over to you to ask about your dress, it’s so pretty.”

“Thank you.” She noticed that Roslin’s, by comparison, was less fine. It was still at a lady’s standard but only just. And Lya wasn’t even wearing her finest dress, it was just one of the dresses she wore when riding but not hunting.

“Did you make it yourself?”

“I did.” It always felt good when her handiwork was appreciated.

“The embroidery too?”

“Yes.” She let Roslin look at the embroidered pattern. “I based them on some plants that grow in Winterfell’s godswood, it’s my favourite place to sew.”

“You could make a great deal of coin as a seamstress. Oh, I wish you were staying longer. There are so many of us girls that fine dresses are few and far between.” Lya looked around at the other women in the room and their dresses were all at the same standard as Roslin’s, with the exception of Joyeuse whose was a bit finer. “That’s why father is so eager to marry us off to whoever will take us. Less bodies to clothe and mouths to feed. He often complains that he can’t do the same with his sons.”

At this the door opened to show Ser Stevron who addressed Lady Stark. “He’s ready for you now, my lady.”

She bid farewell to Lady Roslin and followed them to the great hall. Ser Stevron stepped in to announce them. Without warning, Lady Catelyn turned Lyarra towards her by her shoulders. Her hands reached out to the front of her dress and began loosening the ties of Lya’s bodice slightly so that her chest was more visible before fixing them back in place again. She was too shocked to react in the moment nor could she react afterwards as the doors opened once again.

“Eyes down. Don’t speak unless spoken to.” Were Lady Stark’s last words to her before she strode into the hall which was filled with the men of House Frey. Lya followed at a short distance. Lady Stark addressed the old Lord Frey. “It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, my lord.”

“Is it? I doubt that.” Lya doubted it too. Lord Frey was older than any man Lya had ever met, older than Old Nan which she did not possible. Like many of the others in his family he looked like a weasel, but one that had begun to rot. When his gaze cast over you it made you skin crawl, and Lady Joyeuse seemed no exception. She stood next to him, trembling with nerves or fear, Lya knew not. “I’m too old for your sweet words. Is your boy too proud or too fearful to meet me? What am I to do with the two of you?”

Ser Stevron began to speak before Lord Walder looked directly at Lya, leering. “Now you, I can think of a few things.”

“This is my husband’s bastard, Lyarra Snow, my lord.” It was then that Lya realised why Lady Catelyn brought her and why she had adjusted her dress. She was bait or a bribe of some sort. But then she thought of Arya, Sansa, and her father. They needed to get over this bridge and despite Lady Catelyn’s ire, she knew from her travels that she would never let harm come to her. So, with her eyes on the floor she curtseyed for his amusement.

“His only bastard, yes I’m aware. I’ve plenty myself; bastards and grandbastards. Many of them yet unwed.” He gestured to some of the men in the room. “You must be very grateful that your husband stopped at one.”

Lady Catelyn did not let him speak further. “I’ve come to ask you to open your gates, my lord. My son and his bannermen are most anxious to cross the river and be on their way to Riverrun.”

“Yes, yes. It was my intent to march there myself. Well my sons to march there that is. Just waiting for all my strength to be assembled.” Lord Frey assessed her for a moment. “You don’t believe me, do you? Will a knight’s word suffice? Jared. Tell her that was my intent.”

“It was, my lady.” One of his many sons assured. “On my honour.”

“My lord, might we talk in private?” Lady Stark requested.

Lord Frey swivelled his weaselly head around at his offspring. “Get out of here. You too woman.” He addressed his wife. And they left, but not before he made a lewd joke that impugned Lady Stark’s and her honour.

“We want to cross.”

“Yes, you do. Why should I let you?” He leaned his body forward waiting for her offer. In front of her, Lya could see that Lady Catelyn was almost fuming.

“If you could climb your battlements you could see that my son has twenty thousand men outside your walls.”

“He may do but when Tywin Lannister arrives, they’ll be twenty thousand meals for the crows. You cannot frighten me, my lady. Your husband is in the Black Cells, your father is terribly ill, might be dying, and Jaime Lannister has your brother.” He smirked, sure that he had the upper hand. “So, what toll will you pay to cross?”

The rest of the conversation was haggling. Lya spoke once when they were discussing Arya.

“Would you accept me to marry one of your sons in her place, my lord?” Lady Stark looked furious, but she would not quietly condemn Arya to this.

“Elmar is far too young for you. You’ll be dried up by the time that he can throw his seed.”

“Another son then, or grandson?”

He thought on it for a while, humming. No doubt considering whether to just take her for a mistress himself. “No. I’ve enough bastards in this keep.”

If she could not save Arya from the betrothal maybe she could at least mould her betrothed into a man Arya could marry. They would worry about the Twins later. “We have other knights in our company. Ser Rodrik Cassel could take the boy as his squire so that he can get to know his goodfamily.”

After one long leer at her chest he agreed.

* * *

When they returned Robb looked even more worried than before. “Thank the gods, what took so long?”

“Lord Walder was stalling.” Lady Catelyn replied. “But we came to an agreement nevertheless, all that’s needed is your approval.”

“What are the terms?” Robb asked without hesitation.

“We have the crossing and all but four hundred of Lord Frey’s forces. In return, we will foster two of his grandsons in Winterfell, and you will take his son, Olyvar as your squire. Then there are the marriages.”

“Marriages? Plural?”

“Yes.” Catelyn said stoically. “If Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder’s youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age. In the meantime, he will squire for Ser Rodrik.”

“Arya won’t like that one bit.” He shared a look with Lya.

“I tried to take her place, but he wouldn’t accept it.”

“You did what?” Theon yelled from beside Robb. He had been so good at being discreet but apparently this was the last straw.

“Only after he ogled me and suggested it himself. Thank you very much for the warning by the way Lady Stark.” One quick glare from the lady told them both to shut up. Theon looked hurt but they could talk about it later.

“The last condition is that you will marry one of Lord Frey’s daughters. His lordship has granted you the choice of which.”

“How kind of his lordship.” Robb said sarcastically.

“Do you consent?”

“Can I refuse?”

“Not if you wish to cross.”

“I consent.” Robb said solemnly.

* * *

They crossed that night. Rode their horses as far towards Riverrun as they could. They passed Seagard - acquiring the Mallister army as they did - but they didn’t manage to reach Oldstones before they had to make camp.

When all the tents were set up, Robb held one last meeting to make plans to leave early the next morning. Afterwards, Lya looked to Theon, expecting to walk with him to his tent like they had every night since they reunited at Moat Cailin. But all she saw was him stalking off on his own. He hadn’t looked at her since the Twins, hadn’t ridden beside her like he always did, hadn’t even looked her way.

It was too late in the night for the inevitable argument. Instead, she went to Maege and Dacey Mormont’s tent, her official bed, and tried to get as much sleep as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a kudos or a comment if you did and subscribe if you want to read more. Thanks in advance.
> 
> Btw: if you can guess what Lya’s sword is, you win the prize of being right. Hint: I had to mess around with canon a lot to get it into Howland’s hands.


	2. Lyarra II - Whispering Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter, it covers the Battle of the Whispering Wood. I hope you all had happy holidays and days off work/school. Mine were pretty quiet apart from the typical family drama and my noisy coffee machine that I got for Christmas.
> 
> This was really a challenge for me because it’s entirely descriptions. Dialogue is much easier for me to write. What makes it worse is that this happens off screen in both the books and the series so all I have to go off are the descriptions on the wiki and my imagination. I hope it reads well.
> 
> Enjoy.

The silence was thick in the air. Ghost was right at home, though she was hidden behind a bush, so she didn’t stand out against the dark night. Not a word was spoken as they watched the Lannister men march through the valley in pursuit of the Blackfish. Across the way, she could see the Frey forces on the western side. She knew her brother was there with them, surrounded by his personal guard.

Theon was there too.

Theon who had not spoken to her in days.

But now was not the time to think about that.

She sat on her borrowed horse amongst Mormonts, Umbers, and Mallisters. Most of whom were far more experienced in battle than her. She squeezed the hilt of her sword with her free hand with a white-knuckle grip and a burst of confidence rushed through her. None of the warriors around her came out of the womb with a sword in their hand. Each of them had once had their first battle.

Her father had told her about his first battle before, the Battle of the Bells. It was one of the few events of the Rebellion that he spoke of. She remembered sitting at his feet with Robb and hanging on every word. He was honest about it. He told them how scared he was, how hard-fought the battle was and he didn’t spare them the gory and tragic details and she was grateful for that now. He would be proud of her, of her and Robb. She would make him proud today and then they would save him and her sisters.

All the Lannisters were in the valley now. Amongst them, the moonlight reflected off Jaime Lannister’s golden armour. They were only waiting for the signal now. She met Maege Mormont’s eyes, who raised the horn to her mouth and blew. The sound echoed throughout the valley and even from so far away they could see the Lannister soldiers shit their pants.

Before they could form up, the front lines of archers from the west, the east and the north, loosed their arrows. They were sitting ducks. The outer edges of Ser Jaime’s men fell before they knew what was happening.

One volley after the next cut down more and more men while they were still trying to figure out where it was coming from. After five volleys another horn sounded from the north, the Karstark’s front. The Greatjon let out a battle cry that rivalled its volume. Lya spurred her horse forward and joined the eastern cavalry charge. From the west and the north, two more rows of horses emerged, charging at the army. Their job was to take out as many of the Lannister riders as they could before the skirmish began.

Across the way she saw Robb with Grey Wind beside him just as Ghost was with her. Though she could not see Theon.

But now was not the time for that.

Now was the time to fight.

The downhill charge was exhilarating, she rode by Maege Mormont’s side, a lance in her hand and Ghost keeping pace. When they finally crashed into the opposing line, she held her lance steady. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ghost target a man wearing less armour than the others and tear into him. _Good girl._

They made several charges and it was messy. A few horses and riders went down from spears and pikes while many a westerman was trampled under hoof. The Lannister lines were well broken but to a lesser extent so were theirs. It didn’t help matters that the Lannister cavalry had begun their counter attacks. All of a sudden, she was set upon by a mounted knight with a lance and shield. She was just a moment too slow and his lance hit an awkward spot on her armour that caused it to shatter, while hers hit him hard enough to knock him down.

Her chestnut rounsey reared up beneath her as their horses collided and despite her efforts, for the first time in years she fell out of the saddle. The steel of her helmet knocked her skull when she hit the ground. Right beside her was the dismounted knight who had been trampled in their horses’ escape. A biting pain consumed her left shoulder where splinters of the other knight’s lance had pierced her armour. Her vision blurred but she could still hear the battle around her as the Northern infantry had joined the fray. Most importantly she could hear Ghost defending her as she recovered.

When her vision cleared, she was met with the sight of Jaime Lannister cutting a path through the battlefield. He’d broken formation which Lya would not have expected from an experienced commander like him. He had to have a good reason. She followed his course across the battlefield to find his target, Robb.

No.

She could not let her brother die. Not Robb, who had always been like a twin to her.

She unsheathed her sword and its power flowed through her. The ringing in her ears faded as did her pain. She summoned energy she did not think she had and cut her own path to intercept him, Ghost by her side.

Swords were flying at her from left and right, but she dodged them. For once she was thankful that she was so short, even the experienced soldiers weren’t used to aiming so low so she could easily duck and weave her way through. She didn’t engage with any of them, focussed on the Kingslayer. She trusted Ghost to deal with any that tried to give chase.

Meanwhile, the Kingslayer had reached Robb’s personal guard. She recognised the sigils of House Hornwood and Karstark. Daryn Hornwood mis-stepped and tripped, allowing Ser Jaime to kill him where he lay. Then only the Karstarks were left, Eddard and Torrhen put up a strong fight but still they were no match for the Kingslayer. He dispatched of them one after the other.

Robb was left wide open on his flank, the rest of his guard were engaged or hadn’t noticed, and Grey Wind was nowhere to be seen. It was up to her. She could only pray that she was quick enough, putting all her energy into getting in between them. Even if that meant that she was cut down in his place. He lifted up his sword for the killing blow and she only just managed to make it. Their blades rung loud in the collision and he didn’t look happy.

He pushed their blades down before side swiping her. She managed to twist her grip quickly enough to block it but couldn’t hold it very long. There was no way that she could win without disarming him, he was too skilled. She made three attempts at it, drawing on all those drills with Ser Rodrik, before she finally succeeded.

She knocked him down and kicked his sword away. He was at her mercy, she was the arbiter of his fate. He who attacked her father in the streets, who tried to kill her brother. Her sword hand pulsed with energy like it had many times but this time it was darker. Every bone in her body told her to end it there so that he couldn’t hurt anyone else but from somewhere her father’s voice spoke: _there is no honour in killing a man who has been beaten_. So instead, Ghost bounded up and pounced on the man to hold him down, Lya got some strange satisfaction from the blood that dripped from Ghost’s maw onto his face.

The battle was fast won after that and as dawn broke, Grey Wind howled for their victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed that. Let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> I read way too much about cavalry tactics and infantry counter-tactics for this. Thank you Wikipedia. Mainly I was just looking for a way for Lya to be able to wield a halberd on horseback because it’s my favourite weapon. But apparently only Chinese cavalry and samurai used polearms on horseback and halberds are actually more useful for pulling riders off of horses. Why couldn’t GRRM have drawn from cultures other than Europe so that my dream could come true. Alas, Lya must settle for a lance.
> 
> I should be able to get these out more regularly as I’ve figured out a good strategy for writing more.
> 
> I’ll see you all with the next chapter.


	3. Theon I - Dark Wings, Dark Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word comes of Ned Stark's execution.  
> The North and the Riverlands hold a meeting to decide their plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello here's another chapter. I'm patting myself on the back for trying to keep to a weekly schedule. 
> 
> I messed around with the timeline here because technically they found out about Ned before reaching Riverrun but I’m changing it to after for the drama. They know other things they didn’t know in the book like Stannis declaring himself as king and the illegitimacy of the Baratheon children. I’m doing a whole Marie Kondo with this canon.
> 
>  **Potential trigger warnings:** Theon talks about the canon physical abuse that he faced from his brothers. I don't go into too much detail but if it is likely to affect you skip the first few paragraphs where Theon is talking about his family in the last section.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

It was happenstance that Theon was there when they read the news. They were sparring together when a servant came to summon Robb to a meeting with his uncle. He went along for no other reason than curiosity, but when he arrived and it was only Edmure, Lady Catelyn, and Lyarra present he knew something was off. Afterall, if it was news of the war then surely the other lords would be there. Edmure had the solemn duty of reading them the letter.

“On the tenth day of the first moon in the year 299 AC, the former Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark was tried for the crime of treason against the late King Robert Baratheon and his son and heir, King Joffrey Baratheon. In the sight of gods and men he confessed to his crimes. His Grace, King Joffrey in his” Edmure grimaced at the next part and continued with venom “ _wisdom_ sentenced him to death and his execution was performed thusly.”

Lady Catelyn was the first to react, crying out and throwing herself into the arms of her son.

There was still more to the letter, however. “Let it be known to any who seek to betray or usurp his Grace, King Joffrey Baratheon. No mercy will be shown, from the pretenders who name themselves kings to the soldiers who fight for them. All enemies of the crown will pay for their crimes with their lives.”

It reminded Theon of the letter they received after the storming of Seagard informing them of Rodrik’s death. Theon wasn’t supposed to hear it but he was eavesdropping by the door of the Great Hall as they read it. He didn’t remember feeling upset, after all Rodrik was an arse. What he did remember were his mother’s screams and curses at his father, blaming him for starting the war.

Robb just looked at the letter which Edmure had discarded on the table, unmoving and frozen in time. Lyarra said nothing and quickly left the room with Ghost on her heels. Theon wanted to go after her, but he knew that at times like these she wanted to be alone. At Winterfell she would usually retreat to the godswood but maybe that would remind her too much of her father today. She wanted, needed to mourn her father on her own terms. So, Theon would let her. If she wanted comfort from him, she would come to him and he would be there for here. He would help her feel safe just like he had when the King came to Winterfell and when Bran fell. His place always had been and always would be by her side.

Theon wasn’t sure what to do past that. Lord Stark wasn’t his father, he wasn’t his family. He felt sad but he didn’t feel like he had any right to mourn alongside the others. So, he merely politely excused himself.

* * *

Late in the day, Robb called all his bannermen and the riverlords to a council. Decisions needed to be made regarding their future in the war. Decisions that he previously hoped to leave up to his father but now they were his to make.

“Have you seen Lya?” Robb approached him before the meeting began.

“No.” He hadn’t seen Lya since that morning. It was just what Lya did when she was sad, she wanted to be alone. Most of the time she’d seclude herself in the godswood or her room. Seeking her out and asking if she was okay would only make her more upset. If she wanted company, wanted comfort she’d ask.

“Damn. I wanted her here. Even though she’s not familiar with the castle she seems to be evading the servants I’ve sent to find her.” He looked around at the gathering lords in the hall. “There’s no time to wait. We have to begin.”

The four long trestle table’s in Riverrun’s Great Hall were arranged in a broken square. Lord Edmure and the Blackfish represented the Tullys. They were accompanied by a few major riverlords. Jonos Bracken and Tytos Blackwood sat as far away from each other as possible. The pair’s petty feud had been a great source of amusement for him. Opposite them sat the North, Lady Stark sat on her son’s right followed by Lord Glover and Lady Mormont. The Greatjon was on Robb’s left side and Theon next to him. Lord Karstark stood away from the tables looking like a ghost, he’d lost his two youngest sons to the Kingslayer with no word of his eldest who had marched towards Tywin’s army.

They spent hours arguing and debating what to do next, which king to support. Each lord took their time grandstanding about their opinion. Some lords advocated an attack on King’s Landing. Others wanted to march on Harrenhal or Casterly Rock. Robb didn’t want to be there he could tell, the weight of being Lord Stark was already weighing heavy on him and he was still grieving.

Jason Mallister was in the middle of explaining how they could bring Tywin Lannister down through trade – which was by far the most boring thing Theon had ever heard – when a door opened. Through it came Lya. She looked perfectly put together in her grey dress. The image of her with blood stained armour and her hair falling out of her braid as she stood over the Kingslayer flashed in his mind. After days of being pissed at her, it was that moment that had reminded him why he loved her even if she’d offered herself to another man. Looking at her now, he could see the cracks, her eyes were red from crying, so she kept them on the floor as much as possible. He began to make space for her, but Robb beat him to it, asking the Greatjon to move so that Lya could sit at his left. Lord Mallister continued his grandstanding and Theon overheard Robb and Lya talking.

“The main decisions that remain to be made are which king we are to support and where we take our army next. I wanted your thoughts.”

“How many kings _are_ there?”

“Joffrey, Renly and Stannis. Obviously, the former is out of the question but the other two have equally valid claims.”

“No, they don’t. If all of the queen’s children are illegitimate, then Stannis, as the eldest brother is the only one with the true claim. Just like Bran would succeed the title of Lord Stark were anything to happen to you.”

Lady Catelyn cut in then. “Stannis has abandoned the gods of his forefathers for the red god of Essos. Renly is more popular and has more men.”

“Exactly, Lady Stark we ought to swear fealty to King Renly.” Lord Jonos Bracken had clearly overheard their conversation and loudly declared his opinion to the gathering. Lord Mallister looked offended. _Thank the gods he finally shut up._

“Renly is not king.” _Good man, Robb. Listen to your sister._

“Do you mean to name the boy who put your father to death a king then?” Chimed Galbart Glover with the most idiotic contribution Theon had heard all night.

“Do not insult my intelligence, Lord Glover. The Baratheon children’s illegitimacy does not make Renly king. By the laws of succession, Stannis Baratheon succeeds his brother.”

“But Renly is crowned.” Said Marq Piper. Theon was getting very tired of all these whiny riverlords. “And he has the manpower of Highgarden and Storm’s End. If we add the power of Winterfell and Riverrun, he’ll defeat the Lannisters with ease.”

“That’s not how succession is decided.” Surprisingly, it was Lya that spoke now. And by the look on her face she was surprised too. She stood from her seat to speak her piece. “There have been times before when succession was as confused as now. In the time of Jaehaerys I and Maekar I, the best course of action was a Great Council and it should be the same now. We have the numbers Lord Piper you’re correct, but they can have equal power in a council as they do in war.” _They think us Iron Islanders so savage yet Lya is advocating for the equivalent of a kingsmoot and they all agree. She’s right though, she always is._ “And in my opinion, we should put those numbers behind Lord Stannis. Lest we disrupt order any more than we already have.”

And then the Greatjon went and ruined it by opening his mouth. “Well as long as we’re choosing kings, my lords!” Theon saw both Lya, Lady Catelyn and Maege Mormont flinch at that. The Greatjon had stood from his seat and made his way to the center of the tables. “Here is what I say to these two kings!” He spat. “Renly is nothing to me, nor Stannis. What right do they have to rule over us from some flowery seat in the south? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong.” All of the riverlords – bar Lord Blackwood – and Lady Stark flinched at that too. But all the Northerners laughed. “Others take the Lannisters too.” He unsheathed the greatsword from his back and no one was quite sure where he was going with this. “Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!” He pointed his sword to Robb. “There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, the King in the North!”

That was the last thing Theon expected. Robb was in shock. Lya too, she looked across where the Greatjon had sat moments ago and looked to Theon. But he had nothing to offer her, he was at a loss too.

The Greatjon laid his sword at Robb’s feet and one by one he was joined by the Northern lords. Karstark was first, his grief momentarily forgotten to join the Greatjon to kneel to the new king. Then Maege Mormont who proclaimed him the ‘King of Winter’. Jason Mallister lead the way for the riverlords to join too. And the most surprising of all, lords Bracken and Blackwood agreed on something and joined the crowd to kneel.

Theon barely noticed that Lya had stood as well. She placed a hand on his shoulder that brought him out of his confused daze, and he joined her. Out of instinct he took her hand and the same instinct allowed her to accept it. They knelt to Robb side by side, pledging their loyalty to their brother by blood or bond. They joined the group in a cheer.

“The King in the North!”

“The King in the North!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

* * *

Theon knew that at some time in the night Lya would go to the godswood to pray before resting. So, he waited for her there on an uncomfortable stone bench. Riverrun’s godswood was nowhere near the size of Winterfell’s and felt much less natural. Theon knew that this was because Winterfell was built around the godswood and its hot springs, it was sequestered as a place of worship where people could come and pray without disturbances. While Riverrun’s was designed after the castle was built and was likely never used by the Tullys as a place of prayer. There were stone structures like the bench he sat on, cobbled paths, bird baths and statues that would be frowned upon in any Northern castle. He wondered if the weirwood was there before the castle was built or whether it had been planted. That would certainly explain why it was so skinny. But it was a weirwood, nonetheless, and Lya was bound to visit it to pray for her father.

It didn’t help Theon’s nerves that the godswood was the main thoroughfare between the Great Hall and the keep. Every time he heard footsteps, he looked up only to be disappointed by a servant or a lord. The day after they arrived, he’d heard Lya say to Robb that it took her twice as long to pray because people kept walking through and distracting her.

Many of the Northern lords had paused to say a prayer for their late liege and their new king before making their way to their room or to the dock to return to camp. There had been a larger gathering earlier of the northern lords and Lord Blackwood before the council, to mourn Lord Eddard. Theon had not attended because he didn’t want to intrude but he knew that Lya had been there as well.

Eventually, he saw a flash of white as Ghost silently padded up to him. He patted the wolf before lifting his eyes to her owner. She looked less sad than when he’d seen her in the Great Hall, now anxiety was written across her face. No doubt her brother would be in her prayers tonight as well.

“Hello.” He thought it best to start simple.

“Hello. Were you waiting for me?”

“I was.” He said to his feet. “I just- I just wanted to know if you were okay. I know that it must be hard for you, not just your father’s death but Robb’s crowning as well.”

“It’s been a long day huh?” She was deflecting but it’s not like he’s never done that before

“I’m here if you want to talk or just not to be alone. I know that we haven’t been talking-”

“We can’t just pretend like that never happened, Theon.”

“That’s not what I mean, Lya. I just want to put it aside for a night, if you want to.” He gestured to the weirwood. “You say your prayers and after you’ve finished if you want to stay in my room tonight you can.”

She pondered it for a moment. “Okay but I would like to talk, not about the fight but about today and other things.”

“That’s alright with me. Have you had supper?” She shook her head. “I’ll find someone to send some food to my room.”

As he went to do that, she wandered over to the heart tree. When he returned, she was still in prayer, so Theon waited for her at the bench with Ghost. Unlike those of the Seven, prayers to the Old Gods were silent. He wished to know what was on her mind and hoped that she would let him in tonight despite the fact that he’d been pushing her away of late.

When she was finished, they walked to his room. Waiting for them there was a bottle of wine and a plate of assorted meats, cheeses and breads. They sat on the floor by the fire and slowly made their way through it. Periodically, they would feed little pieces to Ghost.

They were about halfway through when Lya finally spoke. “Can you tell me about your family? I know you’ve told me before but-”

“It’s alright.” If she wanted a distraction, he was only too happy to provide it. “What do you want to hear about?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you remember.”

“Well, I spent a lot of time with my brothers, so I have a lot of memories of them. Not many good ones though.” _In fact, no good ones at all._

Lya frowned. “You don’t talk much about them.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. Rodrik and Maron were a bunch of arseholes.” He hated to remember them. “They used to beat me up when they drank. Said they were just preparing me for real life, but they never did it to Asha. They just liked to pick on me. I couldn’t wait to grow up and give as good as I got but… well you know what happened. I remember the first time I got punished for doing something stupid at Winterfell, I got ten cracks of the cane. And I just thought ‘Is that all?’”

They both laughed morbidly at that.

“I think you would’ve hated them, but you’d love Asha. She was always a ball of fun, my only blood sibling that I actually like. I wonder what she’s like now.”

“How much older is she?”

He had to think for a bit. “She’s three years older so she’d be four and twenty now.”

“Is she married then?”

“Not that I know of. I’m pretty sure news like that would warrant a letter but that would mean they would have to remember I exist.”

“Theon… I’m sure they miss you. There could be many reasons why they haven’t written.” He wished that were the truth. “When this is over… maybe Robb will let you go back.”

“I’d like that. Mostly just to see my mother. She wasn’t in the best place after Rodrik and Maron died but I didn’t understand it then.” He hesitated. He didn’t normally talk to Lya about his mother because he knew how sensitive she was about it. “She used to laugh a lot but less towards the end of the war. I would try everything to make her laugh, I was the only one that could. I did a lot of stupid things.”

“ _You?_ I can’t imagine that.” She smiles cheekily.

There was a long pause before either of them spoke again.

“I hate how grief makes me feel.” Her eyes were watery now. “I’m filled with bitterness and spite at those who don’t deserve it.”

“It could help to talk it through.” He offered.

“I know, it’s just… will you promise not to judge me?”

He took her hand in his. “I could never.”

“Don’t speak too soon.” She took a big gulp of her wine before she continued. “I’m angry at Robb. I hate that he has one parent left while I have none. My father was the only person who I completely shared blood with, he was there for me since as long as I remember, all I had for my entire life. Why should Robb be upset when he still has that? Not just in his mother but all his full-blooded siblings.”

“I think you’d have a hard time convincing Robb that you’re any less of a sister to him than Arya or Sansa. Arya might just escape King’s Landing to disagree with you.”

“I know that.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I just want someone to be mad at. I know that the right person to be mad at is Joffrey but he’s not here.”

“You can be mad at me if you want.” But he didn’t want that at all.

“I was already mad at you.” She hesitated and he could tell that she didn’t want to delve into the territory of their fight. Ghost nuzzled her head onto Lya’s lap, and she absentmindedly ran her hand over her fur. “I don’t want to be mad at all really.”

“Lya I can’t tell you how to get through this. I wasn’t nearly as close with my brothers as you were with your father. But I want you to know that whatever you need, I’m here. Even if what you need is to yell at me.” That made her laugh and there was nothing sweeter.

“Alright then, I have a request.” She met his eyes and her tears had cleared up though her eyes were still red. “Can you just hold me tonight? I have a bad feeling my sleep won’t be very peaceful, so I’d like if at least my waking state was nice.”

“Of course.”

If two years ago, someone told him that not only would he give up whoring but also that he would be perfectly content just sleeping in a bed with a woman with no ulterior motives, he wouldn’t have believed them. That Theon would’ve thought lying in bed with a woman while you were still clothed was a waste of time. But here, with Lya in his arms there was no other word to describe it. He was content and he couldn’t imagine ever feeling otherwise. Lya felt safe in his arms and that made him feel more like a man than anything else ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least they're talking to each other now even if they haven't resolved their fight.
> 
> I highly recommend reading Catelyn XI in AGOT. The Greatjon's speech is just funny so I mostly left it as it is. I cut out this awesome part that really goes to the heart of GRRM's anti-war message behind asoiaf. Essentially, she calls for peace and says that they should all just go home and mourn. Then one by one the lords list of all their grievances that will just contribute to the cycle of vengeance. (it doesn't help that they're very sexist about it)
> 
> Let me know if there are any spelling mistakes, I gave up on spell check because of all the fantasy names.
> 
> Please tell me what you thought in the comments. Hopefully I'll keep my streak and get the next chapter to you in a week.


	4. Lyarra III - The Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Lya chat about his upcoming marriage, the arrival of winter, the mysterious Howland Reed, and the elephant in the room in Lya and Theon’s relationship. On her brother’s advice, Lya tries to address said elephant with Theon. Robb’s bride arrives and wedding bells are ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real bitch to write. A lot happens, a lot of talking. I ended up moving the last scene that would’ve been in this chapter to chapter 6 because I realised it works much better there. Then I had a mini panic trying to post when the rich text editor didn’t show up and ao3 wasn’t working for me.
> 
> No trigger warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Over a sennight had passed since they liberated Riverrun and Lya already found her favourite place in the castle. The triangular layout of Riverrun had two sides that faced south-east and south-west and a third that faced north. The northern side held the Wheel Tower where she sat now in a bay window which overlooked the large waterwheel and the Tumblestone which moved it. It became her favourite place not only because it faced her home but also because it was relatively isolated, so it allowed her to think or read in peace. The only people that passed through were servants who used the mechanism of the wheel for various purposes such as milling flour and papermaking. They often mistook her for a lady, so they didn’t interrupt her when they did pass by.

Ghost was not nearly at peace here. She was getting restless from being cooped up in the castle for so long. Despite the fact she was well fed, nothing could quite replace the exhilaration of a hunt or battle. Her mood was having an effect on the dogs in the kennels as well, any time she walked near them they would bark bloody murder. Lya received many a glare from the kennel master to the point that she avoided the kennels when convenient. She worried about her direwolf. Didn’t they say that some animals are never the same after tasting human flesh? But no, Ghost wasn’t violent she was just restless.

“Don’t worry Ghost. The next time they go hunting for game, we’ll ride out with them. I promise.” She gave her wolf a good pat and she seemed satisfied with that for now.

“Want some company?”

She jumped. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed her brother approaching her. Grey Wind too was with him and Ghost jumped down to greet her own brother. Robb was dressed simply much like he might’ve in Winterfell. Her brother wasn’t a pompous king like Robert, or a violent king like Joffrey. He was still her brother, the power hadn’t gone to his head and she hoped that it remained that way.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you coming. Yes, yes, sit down.” She moved her feet so that he had space to sit down at the other end. “Your bride can’t be too far away now.”

“Only a day’s travel and then it’s our wedding in a sennight.” He looked terrified at the prospect. Her brother may be a king but he’s still young. He wasn’t experienced with women and especially not in the context of a marriage. “I’ve never been so afraid of a woman before.”

“Are you sure? I seem to recall a twelve-year-old red head who hid in the wolfswood after he spilt wine on his mother’s favourite dress.” They snickered at the memory. When he was eventually found, not only did his parents make him clean up his mess, but he also had to do a favour for each of the men who spent hours searching for him. She and Theon sat and watched him with great amusement as he cleaned all of Alyn’s boots. He never tried to pinch wine from his parents’ room after that, only from the kitchens. “Besides, I think you’ll like her. She’s kind.”

After the council where Robb was declared King in the North, it became apparent that producing an heir was a more urgent priority. They were still bound to their deal with the Freys, so it was simply a matter of choice. To avoid the inconvenience of going to the Twins, choosing from all the women and then coming back to Riverrun, Lya suggested Roslin. She was pretty enough, and they were of an age. But mostly Lya wanted to do the girl a favour and get her out of that castle. Lady Stark cautioned about the robustness of her Rosby blood and whether she would be able to carry a child. But Lya knew exactly how to appeal to her brother so it wasn’t long before the letter was sent, and now it was only a sennight before it was set in stone.

“You mean she was kind to you?”

“Yes. That’s why I trust her. There was nothing to gain from being kind to me, but she was anyway. The rest of that family I don’t trust as far as I could throw them and neither does she.” She shivered remembering Lord Walder’s leers.

“It certainly improves my opinion of her, already. I’d never want to marry someone who was cruel to my sister or pretended like you didn’t exist.” She smiled at her almost-twin. They only grew closer after the loss of their father. Lya got over her initial bitterness with Theon’s help and they remembered the importance of family that their father instilled in them.

Even Lady Catelyn became warmer to her. During their travels south she already began to cease her glares. But now there seemed to be an acknowledgement from her that Father was just as important to her as he was to Lady Catelyn. It could also have something to do with Lady Stark’s own ailing father. They began to have actual conversations, just the two of them. Their reluctant friendship was built on a shared disapproval of the war. Lady Catelyn just wanted to go home, be with her younger sons, and mourn, while Lya wanted the same but she was also terrified of losing any more than she already had.

Even stranger, Lady Catelyn began to tell her stories of her father and of her half-siblings that would sometimes include Lya on the periphery. The most interesting of these stories was told to her in a moment of weakness and Lya had not dared to bring it up again. Lady Catelyn told her about the early days of her marriage and of the rumours about Ashara Dayne. She’d never heard these rumours which meant that her father really did put a stop to them after that fight. They brought her less joy than she expected information about her mother to. All it really brought her was more questions. _Was she really my mother? Did she give me up or did father take me from her? Is that why she threw herself from the tower?_

Once again, she’d gotten lost in her thoughts. She brought her mind back to her conversation with Robb. “Roslin is Olyvar’s sister, isn’t she? What has he said of her?”

“Only good things. She’s the only girl among the five of his siblings so he’s especially protective of her. He’s a good man, Olyvar. Anxious but loyal.” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s so weird having a squire.”

“Not to mention one that’s two years older than you eh?”

“I have to order him around Lya.” Robb cringed.

“Robb, you’re a king now. You can order _everyone_ around.” He looked even more exasperated at that. The crown lay heavy on her poor brother’s head.

“I know… Everyone looks to me for answers now. As if I magically know more than them just because I have a crown.” Robb looked out the window to the horizon like he wanted to go home too. “And now new concerns are popping up. Or rather flying in. What do you make of the white raven from the Citadel then?”

“I think the North should be preparing for winter not for more war.” Thankfully, Robb’s crown didn’t prevent her from being frank with him.

“You speak awfully ill of war for someone who fought so well on the battlefield.”

“Just because I’m good at fighting doesn’t mean I like it. I was scared every moment of that battle, not least when you were in danger.” That awful moment flashed in her mind again. “I just keep thinking about what Lord Reed wrote to you, ‘As you march south, keep one eye north. Winter is coming.’ What if winter brings something we’re not prepared for?”

“He’s a strange man that Lord Reed.” Robb said avoiding her question entirely.

“Father said he was a close friend. Before Father left for King’s Landing, he told me that if I was ever forced out of Winterfell, I should seek refuge with him at Greywater Watch. But we’ve never even met him. I don’t remember him attending a single feast or ever coming to visit.” He nodded, acknowledging her confusion. “What makes it stranger is when you compare it to my letter. He wrote to me ‘Do not forget the words of your house.’ Why write the words exactly to you but only reference them in mine?”

“Maybe he was referring to your mother’s house. He was with Father at the end of the rebellion.”

She thought of the sword that came with Howland’s letters. He’d told her to use it well and she had, she’d used it to bring down the Kingslayer. But then it almost seemed to want more. _Was it like Ghost? Did it taste blood and develop a craving for more?_ A small part of her hoped that it was her mother’s. _Was it from her house?_ Mayhaps her mother had been a crannogwoman. But that didn’t match with what little she already knew. She was born in one of the southern kingdoms, most likely Dorne and according to Lady Catelyn, most likely to Ashara Dayne.

“Only father knew that for sure. There’s no asking him now.”

“You never know. He might’ve told Howland. Don’t give up hope.”

The conversation lulled after that. It wasn’t a comfortable topic for either of them. Neither wanted to think of their father’s one dishonourable act. It was a few minutes before Robb spoke up again.

“So, you said that as king I can order around anyone I want?”

“I can already see where you’re going with this.” She rolled her eyes at her brother’s approaching meddling.

“Can I order you and Theon to be locked in a room until you resolve your issues?”

“I can’t imagine locking us in a room together would be as productive as you have in mind.” She said suggestively, trying in vain to gross him out and avoid the topic all together. He’d told her some time ago about his misadventure trying to prevent their first time. She’d begged him to let her tell Theon about it and he didn’t hear the end of it from them for days. They would joke often about locked doors and thin walls. Despite that, Robb had still agreed to teach her a few things about connecting with Ghost.

“Lya, I’m serious. Even though you’ve stopped avoiding each other, everyone can tell that it’s still hanging over you. It always will if you don’t talk it out.”

“And you know this from your _vast experience_ with love?” She teased.

“Would father let something go unresolved like this?”

“That may work half the time but, in this case, you’re looking right at the unresolved issue in your parents’ marriage.”

“Fuck I guess you’re right.” He acknowledged. “I just… you’re really good for each other. Theon makes you happy and you make Theon better behaved. You can depend on each other. Have you even asked Theon why he was mad at you?”

“We’ve kind of avoided the topic.” She muttered shamefully.

“He was hurt Lya. You offered your hand at the Twins. Can you imagine how that made him feel? It made him doubt whether your relationship meant as much to you as it did to him.” He insisted.

“Did he tell you this?”

Robb nodded. “After I asked him why he was being such an idiot, yeah. I hate to see you two fight. As much as I would like to think that no one will ever be good enough for my little sister, Theon comes close.”

“I’m just scared that it won’t last, Robb.”

“Why? Because I can tell you, you don’t have to worry about him falling out of love with you. He’s past the point of no return.” He smiled trying to cheer her up, to no avail.

“It’s not that.” She sighed. “I’m just a bastard, Robb, and he’s the heir to the Iron Islands. There’s no future for us.”

“I think that’s something you should talk to him about before you give up on it absolutely.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She conceded.

“Besides you’re more than just a bastard,” he pulled her into a hug, “you’re my sister.”

* * *

Taking Robb’s advice, she asked Theon to go hunting with her the next day. They left Riverrun in the early hours of the morning and rode out along the Tumblestone. If they were going to finish this fight, she’d rather it not be in the middle of Riverrun for all to see. It was between them and it would stay that way.

Ghost was ecstatic to finally be able to run free. As soon as they were over the drawbridge, she sprinted away to the tree line to hunt. Lya and Theon barely needed to do any work as Ghost brought them numerous rabbits on top of the ones she ate herself. She finally got the opportunity to work out all that pent-up energy.

About an hour into their hunt she led them to a stag. Allowing Ghost to have at it wasn’t the best way to get a clean kill so Lya held her back. She nodded to Theon for him to take it instead. He pulled back his bowstring and carefully aimed at the stag.

“What better gift for Robb’s new bride than the sigil of the southern kings?” Theon suggested before he took the shot. It was a resilient beast, so it took a few arrows to down it.

After they secured the stag carcass to Lya’s horse they decided that they had enough to go back. They crested the hill that separated the forest from the riverbank and that’s when she remembered. She was enjoying the hunt so much that she forgot its original purpose.

“Theon, can we stop for a moment?”

He didn’t question her further until they both dismounted and secured their horses. “Is everything alright?”

“I think we ought to settle our argument from the Twins before the Freys arrive.”

“I thought that we were past this.” For the man who started the fight he seemed awfully hesitant to finish it. Lya understood in a way, she wanted to ignore it too but if they did, it would never truly go away.

“We’re not and you know that, Theon. We might be talking to each other now but it’s still not like it was before. This _thing_ is going to hang over us until it’s settled so I’m asking you to tell me honestly now, why you were so upset with me?”

“Why?!” Theon scoffed. “You don’t even understand why?”

“All I know is you expressed your disapproval for all the lords to hear at the Twins and then that night you just stopped talking to me until my father died and you felt bad.” Of course, she had some idea, but she wanted to hear exactly how he was feeling from him.

“You can’t imagine why I might be upset at you throwing yourself at a Frey so that we could cross a bridge?” He asked incredulously.

“I didn’t make the offer to cross the bridge, I made the offer to spare my sister – who is currently a hostage in the capital – from being married off to a man she didn’t know.” She reminded him.

“And it would be so much better if you were in her place?” He was just being sarcastic now.

“No, but at least I know I could handle it better. Anyway, what does it matter? It didn’t work in the end so why would it upset you?”

“Do you think I’m lying when I tell you I love you?” Lya was shocked by the sudden change of topic but she answered anyway.

“What? Of course not.”

“Are you lying to me when you say it back?”

“Theon you’re being ridiculous.”

“How?” Theon was frustrated but he calmed down, took both her hands in his, and looked her straight in the eye. “Lya I want to marry someday. I’ve told you that before. So, how can you not understand that I would be upset by you offering yourself to another man?”

She saw no hint of a lie in his eyes. She knew exactly how he felt about her, but she also knew the reality of their situation. Not able to bear it anymore, she broke eye contact.

“It’s not like I wanted to. If I had a choice…. If we lived in a world without war and politics, I would love nothing more than to marry you. But we’re at war. You’re the eldest living son of a great house. You can’t just marry whoever you want. Especially not me.”

“Why not? Robb’s a king now, there’s not many people who could tell him ‘no’.”

“Yes, Robb is a king, Sansa and Arya are princesses, Bran and Rickon are princes. I’m still a bastard, Theon. I’m not even a lady. There’s no political benefit of you marrying a bastard. In fact, it’s more than likely to be taken as an insult when your family hears of it. But at the Twins, for a moment I saw an opportunity to gain something _and_ save my sister in return by simply offering my hand.”

“Why does everything have to be about politics?”

“We’re at war Theon, everything is about politics whether we like it or not. It was okay during peace time for us to run around Winterfell like there were no consequences to our actions and maybe if things stayed peaceful, maybe, we could’ve married. Now though… there’s no room for us to be selfish.”

“Why not? Why should I have to-”

“Theon the last war was won through marriages. If I give into my selfishness today and it comes back to haunt us tomorrow, I could never forgive myself.”

“So, you’re okay with that? You can’t tell me that you’re okay with me leaving you behind to marry some other woman. Do you really want to end up just like your mother?”

A sudden rage came over her at the mention of her mother and she slapped him.

“Don’t talk about her like that. I may not have known her, but I will not allow her to be dishonoured like that.”

A clamour of hooves drew their attention away from the fight. From the top of the hill they could see the Frey party making their way down the road to Riverrun. Once again, their fight would have to wait.

They rode back at the fastest pace possible and they arrived just ahead of the Frey party. Robb, Lady Stark and Lord Edmure stood at the front of the gathering. It was all awfully too reminiscent of the royal visit to Winterfell, but she refused to let that affect her. She and Theon handed their horses off to the grooms and took their places.

The Frey party consisted of Ser Stevron, who came to give his half-sister away, Perwyn, who fought alongside them at the Whispering Wood and was sent to retrieve his sister, a few guards, and a wheelhouse which presumably held Lady Roslin. Lord Walder sent his apologies that he would not be able to attend due to his health and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

As expected, the wheelhouse opened and Roslin emerged. Robb approached her and unbeknownst to him, Grey Wind followed. She flinched away for a second and Lya could almost see Robb’s heart break. But before too much drama could develop, Grey Wind padded up to Roslin and nudged her hand with his snout. Tentatively, she patted the wolf who then proceeded to sit back on his haunches. _I suppose that means Grey Wind approves._

Robb smiled awkwardly and addressed his bride-to-be. “Lady Roslin, it’s my pleasure to welcome you to Riverrun. I hope your journey fared you well.”

“Thank you, your Grace. Fortunately, the journey here was short and quiet.” Roslin curtseyed to him politely and smiled and addressed him properly, and Lya was more and more sure that she’d made the right decision. “I’m greatly anticipating our wedding.”

Robb smiled even more. _Is he blushing?_ “As am I.”

Her big brother was mystified and Lya was having trouble not laughing at him. When he snapped out of his daze, he continued the formalities. “Lord Wayn, our steward, will escort you and your family to your rooms so that you can get settled in.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Then she said something quietly, just to him and Robb responded in kind. Lya would have to pry later.

Bread and salt were exchanged between her brother, Lord Edmure, and their guests.

As Robb stepped away, Lya and Roslin met eyes and Roslin gave her a big, gap-toothed smile which she returned. Roslin broke away from her escort and Lya didn’t register it for a moment but she was walking towards her. “Lyarra!”

Her soon-to-be queen enveloped her in a hug. She spoke with great excitement. “It’s so good to see you again. I prayed for your victory and I was so happy when word finally came that you’d retaken Riverrun.”

Roslin’s exuberance was contagious. “I’m glad to see you again too. How was your journey?”

Before they continued, Lady Roslin looked back at Lord Wayn and confidently declared “Lyarra can escort me to my room.”

“Is this your direwolf?” Roslin was referring to Ghost.

“Yes, this is Ghost.”

“They’re remarkable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wolf let alone a direwolf.”

“Well they’re already the size of a regular wolf and from what we know they’ll only continue to grow.” She smiled at Roslin as they made their way to her room. “You ought to get used to wolves considering you’re to be one soon.”

“And we’ll be goodsisters.” Roslin pulled her into a side hug. “Oh yes, you asked me a question. Our journey was fine. I tried to stay away from Stevron as much as possible, thank the gods my father didn’t come I don’t think we would’ve survived the journey.”

“You mean your father wouldn’t have?”

“No, I mean all of us. There would’ve been fights and my father is the absolute worst company. Someone would’ve woken up with a dagger in their back.”

“It’s only a few days journey?” Surely Roslin was exaggerating.

“But it felt like years.” She replied exhausted. “I was so nervous Lyarra. Did I embarrass myself in front of your brother?”

“Are you kidding? I thought someone would have to pick his jaw up off the floor.” They both giggled at that. “I knew you two would like each other.”

By then, they’d reached her room. “Do I have you to thank for being chosen out of all the Frey women then?”

“I may have exploited the sway I have with my brother.” She admitted impishly. “I can’t say I regret it seeing how well the two of you get along and I’ll never regret getting you out of that castle.”

“Oh, thank you so much Lyarra. If this room is anything to go by, life away from the Twins is going to be wonderful.”

“Just wait until you see your rooms in Winterfell, the Lady of the House gets one of the largest.” She hoped the day would come soon when they could all go home to Winterfell. “And Roslin, we’re going to be family soon. You can call me Lya if you like.”

“Of course. Now, _Lya,_ I have a dress that my family intends for me to wear at the wedding, but it is horrible.”

Her trunk was brought into her room and she pulled said dress out. She was not exaggerating. The ivory monstrosity was indeed horrible. In fact, it filled the trunk it arrived in. It was ginormous and would no doubt make the lithe girl look ten times larger than she was. It also had an accompanying headdress which would make her look like a septa.

“Well at the headdress isn’t attached, we could easily find a veil to take its place.” She scrutinised it a bit longer to determine what else could be fixed. “Wait, hold it up.”

Roslin held it up to her body so Lya could see how it might fit her. She was right about the size but there was another issue in the length. It was obviously made for a much taller woman so Roslin would have a hard time not tripping on the skirt.

“I was thinking I could wear heels…”

“Any heels high enough for you to comfortably walk in this dress would have you tower over my brother. The length is the least of our issues because it’s just a matter of hemming.”

“Do you think you can save it then?” She asked hopefully.

“A sennight is not as much time as I’d like but I’ll do what I can.”

There was a knock on the door and they both took their gaze away from the horror of a dress to greet the visitor. The door opened to reveal Lady Catelyn.

“My lady.” Lya and Roslin said in unison.

“I thought I would check to see how your settling in.” She cast a glance over the dress. Her face remained polite but Lya could see in her eyes that she hated it. “Is this your bridal gown?”

“It’s alright, my lady. You can say it’s terrible, it’s a truth hard to miss.” Lya said.

“It is certainly one of the less tasteful dresses I’ve seen in my time.” Lady Stark’s face screwed up in a look of disgust.

“We were just discussing how we might go about altering it.” Said Roslin.

“I doubt even the finest seamstress in Westeros could salvage this.” She picked up the headdress and examined it for a moment before discarding it. Then an idea seemed to dawn on her. “Do you know what, there’s a chance that my old dress may still be here. I didn’t bring it to Winterfell with me. Either that or my father may have some wedding dresses prepared on the off chance my uncle finds love in his old age.”

“Prepared so that Hoster could hold a wedding before the Blackfish changes his mind?” She smiled remembering all the stories Brynden had told her about his very insistent brother. He’d said once that he envied her bastardy because no one cares if a bastard is wed nor do any noble ladies throw themselves at bastards in the hopes of marrying them. She’d slowly begun to suspect the real reason why he didn’t want to marry but she didn’t pry or tell anyone of her suspicions because it was none of anyone’s business but his.

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility.” Lady Catelyn suggested. “I’ll look around and whatever we find, Lya can alter for you. If we find mine there is some Tully imagery that will have to be removed.”

A thought occurred to her. Lady Stark just raised the possibility of allowing Lya to alter her own wedding dress. If only Father could see how far they’d come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought in the comments. Kudos, hits, and bookmarks can get a little hard to keep track of because ao3 has no way of showing you how those numbers change over time. Though I do get a daily email about new kudos on my fics that always warms my heart. I love hearing what you think, what you’re loving, how annoyed you are at certain characters, what you’re looking forward to seeing.
> 
> The next chapter will see a new (probably one-off) POV that will shine the light on what’s happening in greater Westeros. Hint: the character does not have a POV in the books but they’re a driving influence on Jon from his first AGOT chapter. Can you guess who it might be?


	5. Benjen I - Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different brother of the Night’s Watch is captured by wildlings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, in this chapter there is a ranger called Othor and an Other (as in a white walker). I sincerely apologise to anyone with dyslexia because that may get confusing. Don’t blame me, blame GRRM because he wrote it.
> 
> Enjoy!

He could feel his skin starting to break where the rope bound his hands. The sting was only worsened with the biting cold. He couldn’t see whether it was just irritation or a serious wound because he was blindfolded with a sack over his head for good measure. But he could feel it with every tug his captors gave on the rope.

He tried his best to keep track of where he might be and where they might be taking him. What he knew for sure was that their ranging had taken him and his brothers through the Haunted Forest toward Skirling Pass. Their search for Waymar Royce and his party had taken them to the edge of the stony highlands that marked the pass. It was there that they were set upon by wights and an Other. Now, captured and blindfolded he was sure that they can’t have gone east. The terrain was only getting rockier and steeper which suggested to him that they were approaching the Frostfangs now.

He wondered whether his fellow rangers would find him. The closest manned castle was the Shadow Tower. That meant that his fate was in the hands of Qhorin, so more like half a hand then. The Halfhand was one of if not the most experienced rangers in history. Surely if anyone were to find him, it would be Qhorin.

Until then all he could do was wait. If he tried to escape there was almost no chance of survival. Either they’d kill him for trying or if he was successful and not recaptured, he still had no idea where he was and no supplies.

All he could hope for was that no more of his brothers died for him.

Their ranging was strange to begin with. They were investigating the disappearance of fellow rangers. Gared had been found south of the Wall and executed by his brother, that left only Waymar and Will to be found. His party followed the path that they were likely to have taken. When they reached the wildling camp that they were meant to investigate they found nothing, no bodies, barely any trace of the camp at all. They began a search west intending to continue until they reached the Shadow Tower.

They were riding through the Skirling Pass. There was not a sound to be heard except the steps of the horses and an eagle cawing above. A thick mist covered the ground. Benjen heard something snap under his horse’s hoof though he couldn’t see what it was through the mist. It was louder than a stick, so he looked down to investigate. There he saw a broken bone half covered by a mound of snow. Strangely, the snow began to stir. More bones were uncovered and suddenly a blue-eyed skeleton seized him and pulled him from his horse.

That was but the first of many. Benjen’s horse fled as soon as its rider fell. The other two reared up, threw Othor and Jafer off and followed. Before long the three were surrounded by more and more walking, blue-eyed corpses. The air was deathly cold, and the mist was growing thicker.

A figure taller than the rest parted between the gathered corpses and Benjen’s blood ran cold. The gaunt, pale blue figure held a sword seemingly made from ice. Its eyes were blue, and its cold gaze chilled you to the core. It was clad in finer armour than the mismatched sort that the corpses wore. It seemed to reflect the light as it moved. It was unmistakably an Other.

With a command that sounded like ice cracking, the wights began to attack. Benjen was quickly swarmed by them. As First Ranger, he kept an eye on his fellow rangers throughout the fight.

Othor went straight for what he must’ve seen as the greatest threat, the white walker. He yelled with all the power in his lungs and swung his axe. The white walker reacted with unnatural speed, bringing his icy sword to block the swing. He had caught Othor off guard and something changed in its cold eyes, something sinister. The white walker returned the attack, swinging his sword and slicing through the ringmail at Othor’s neck like it was silk. Blood poured from his black brother’s throat, the air so cold around them that it solidified before Othor dropped to the ground.

Benjen and Jafer were fighting side by side. The wights were hardy opponents. They had no fear of wounds or death, their attack was relentless. They were hard to kill as well. A lost limb barely phased them. The only effective means was hacking at them until they were just a pile of bones and couldn’t attack but even then their blue eyes continued to stare from the ground. After some time, he and Jafer were separated.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jafer come under attack from the Other. Benjen knew that it would be impossible to break away from the wights to aid him and even if he did the wights would only follow. So, he kept fighting them, hoping to cut down enough to not lose another brother.

Jafer brought his sword up to clash with the Other’s. In a brief lull in the wight’s attacks against him, he could see ice spread from the Other’s sword to Jafer’s and then Jafer’s sword shattered as if it never existed at all. Jafer had no time react before a wight brought an axe down into his skull.

With the shock of it, Benjen was unable to dodge an attack from one of the wights. There was a searing pain in his thigh and then another in his stomach. Blow after blow hit him and despite everything one of them managed to disarm him. On hit from a great axe put a dent in his breastplate and sent him flying to the ground. Then they stopped.

He lay there unable to move from his wounds. Helpless to do anything but watch as the Other stalked towards him, his icy sword ringing as it scraped across the rocky ground. He thought of his eldest brother, his parents, his sister. Long ago he’d made his peace with death, if only because it would reunite him with them and now it had come for him. He made a silent prayer to his gods to watch over his black brothers, Eddard, his goodsister, his nieces and nephews and that they would live a long life before their final reunion in the next. Benjen closed his eyes and prepared for the end. His blood was pounding in his ears and it grew louder and louder.

All of a sudden, a wight came up from behind him and passed him. The wight had rotted away to just a skeleton and its bones rattled as it moved.

Out of all the strange things the day had brought this was the most abnormal. The wight began to attack the Other.

From the trees more emerged. Except these weren’t wights they were wildlings. They wielded weapons and torches. A group of them advanced waving the torches around, burning the wights who went up like good tinder. Even the Other seemed perturbed by it. The skeleton who Benjen later found was named Rattleshirt yelled orders “Grab the ranger and retreat.”

Two men grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up. They dragged him away from the Other and he tried to run with them. His wounds slowed him significantly. They passed a red-haired woman shooting flaming arrows at the few remaining wights. After a short sprint they reached a group of pack horses. Two of the larger wildling men slung him over the back of one and at the time he was of no mind to complain. From there it was non-stop fleeing. The pack horse wasn’t especially fast, but every gallop hit Benjen in the ribs.

When the wildlings finally agreed it was safe to make camp, they pulled him off the pack horse. One of the women, a woods witch apparently, took a look at his wounds and healed them as well as any maester could. After he was healed and fed, they put the blindfold and the sack over his head. From that night it had been much the same. They walked as far as they could during the day and camped at night.

That was until today.

He heard relieved murmurings from his captors though he knew not why. As they continued walking a sound up ahead began to grow. The closer they got the clearer it became, it was a town, or a camp. There was a cacophony of sound all around him, pots or maybe weapons clanging, people talking, he heard dogs barking and thuds louder than any horse could make. He wondered whether they were made by giants or mammoths. He could distinctly hear people whispering about Crows. _I guess it was too hopeful to think this was anything but a wildling camp._ His time here was fleeting.

What sounded like a tent flap opened in front of him and he was shoved forward, all the outside sound was muffled now, and new sounds cropped up. The crackling of a fire and a lute strumming, not a common sound this far north. And then there was a voice.

“Is this my gift?”

“He was being attacked by wights when we found ‘im. Meant to just leave him there but then we remembered what you said about the Stark Crow. ‘is friends were all dead by the time we fought ‘em off. Very lucky we were.”

The hood and blindfold were removed, and it took a while to adjust to the light after so long. A man stood in front of him, older than him, a bit taller too. He wore the wools and leather of a free folk but over it hung a Night’s Watch cloak with red silk sown through it.

“You must be Mance Rayder.” He’d heard tales of the man, especially from his black brothers at the Shadow Tower.

“And you must be Benjen Stark.” That was unexpected. _I’ve never met him before. How could he recognise me?_ If he was this certain about it there was no use denying it.

“You’re correct. Are you to have the honour of killing me then?”

“Kill you?” He chuckled slightly. “That’s some very short-term thinking. No, I’m going to use you. Sit down, eat.”

He didn’t have much choice as the man next to him shoved him into a make-shift chair. He was handed a bowl of some sort of stew. The people around him all looked at him expectantly. In addition to the supposed King-Beyond-the-Wall, there was a Thenn, two blonde women, the red-haired woman who was part of the group that captured him, and a broad, fat man with long beard. He recognised the ringmail that the last man wore as being from a ranger. It made sense, the only wildlings he knew of that made their own armour were the Thenns, all the rest either stole it in raids or off the bodies of dead rangers. If that’s where they got their armour from, he couldn’t imagine where they got the meat for the stew.

As if hearing his thoughts, Rayder spoke again “The meat’s from an elk we caught a few days past. There’s only one clan amongst the Free Folk who eat their fellow man and even they’ve stopped, what with the dead rising and all. Eat your stew.”

So, he did. He couldn’t deny that it was good. With the bindings still around his wrists he had no alternative but to raise the bowl to his mouth to drink it.

The King-Beyond-The-Wall looked around at the other wildlings. “I’d like to speak to him alone.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea Mance?” The red-haired woman cautioned.

“If he attacks me, I’ll scream real loud.”

The others were satisfied with that and departed the tent. The two men stewed in their silence until Benjen finished his stew.

“I’ve never known a wildling to let a man of the Night’s Watch live long unless it’s to torture or eat him. Makes me wonder why I’m still here.”

“Look who’s sitting before you, ranger.”

“You’re not a man of the Night’s Watch. You’re a deserter, an oathbreaker.”

“And you think the free folk cared about that difference? You’re wrong though. The first wildling I met not only let me live but nursed me back to health. I got attacked by a shadowcat, managed to kill it but I was terribly wounded. She found me, healed me, and sewed up the tears in my cloak with red silk. When I returned to my _brothers_ ,” he mocked the word “they made me burn it. I left or deserted as you say not long after, found the woman again and had her make me another.” He gestured to the cloak he was wearing now.

“As for you, not only are you a respected member of the Night’s Watch but you’re also the brother of the Warden of the North. You’re much more use to me alive than dead.”

“You’re a fool if you think he’ll allow you to cross the Wall just because you have me. He’s a father, he’ll choose his family’s safety over mine. A decision I’ll not judge him for.”

“You’re right. I’ve seen his brood-”

“You’ve what?”

“Twice in fact. Once on a visit with Lord Commander Qorgyle. I met his two eldest, the heir and his bastard girl.” He remembered that visit. He hadn’t been able to go because he was on a ranging but he’d received a letter from Lya saying that she’d missed him and that his black brothers were very nice. He recalled that she wrote of how when she grew up, she wanted to join the Watch because even a bastard can earn glory at the wall. Shortly afterwards he’d replied that regretfully as a girl that was impossible. Though after seeing her at the feast with Theon, even if the option were available to her, he didn’t think she would take it. “The second time was more recent. I’m surprised you don’t recognise me.”

“We’ve never met before. Why would I recognise you?”

“Perhaps your eyes aren’t very good, you have been blindfolded for days let’s hope that’s it. Maybe your ears will serve you better.”

He moved towards the furs upon which he’d discarded his lute. Picking it up, he began to play a few familiar chords. A bawdy song, a favourite among the men of the Night’s Watch.

“‘The Dornishman’s Wife’. I know the song, but I have no idea what it has to do with you.”

“You see I heard from some raiders that the southern king was coming to visit Winterfell. Far be it from me to pass up the opportunity to meet a fellow king so I climbed over the wall for the chance to see him. It was easy enough to join the caravan as a bard, but I didn’t expect the privilege of getting to play for the King and the Lord of Winterfell themselves.”

“All that to say you are correct. I won’t get passage through the Wall for your life but that’s not what I’ll ask for. All I intend to ask for is a conversation. Your brother seems a rational man, once he hears of the Others, he’ll let us through willingly. Even if for nothing else than the safety of his family. And if he doesn’t take my word for it, he’ll take yours. If there’s anything I’ve learnt from bringing over forty clans to my cause, it’s that nothing unites people like a common enemy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the idea for Benjen surviving and being captured by wildlings basically spawned from a few ‘what if’ videos I’ve watched. Essentially without Jon at the Wall someone needs to take his place as the peacemaker between the wildlings and the leader of the fight against the Others. Benjen also serves another purpose that you’ll see in the next chapter. I’m not sure how much or if I’ll return to his POV but you will see what has happened at the Wall later.
> 
> As always please let me know what you think and I’ll see you next week.


	6. Author's Note

Hi all.

I know it's been a couple weeks so I want to explain where I've been and the future of this fic.

Over the last couple weeks I've had some unexpected things that have popped up and disrupted my writing process. Basically I needed to get immunised for some fieldwork that I have to do as part of my degree. This included some blood tests which I was so anxious over that I couldn't focus on anything else. Because of this and because the next chapter is pretty significant I decided to skip a week and try to post it next week. But last weekend after I got the immunisation, I got hit by the side effects of it (which were essentially flu symptoms) and they really knocked me on my ass. I wasn't able to finish it in time for that weekend either.

But what this all made me realise is that I feel like this fic was suffering due to the weekly deadline that I was enforcing on myself. I was so encouraged by the response to the first story that I rushed into this sequel and then I stretched myself too far. Especially with my uni semester about to commence I didn't want the quality of this fic (or other things in my life) to suffer at the expense of regular updates. So I've decided to put this story on a temporary hiatus and not post any more until the whole thing is done. As a reader I know how frustrating this is so I apologise but I hope when I come back you'll all enjoy what I've written.

Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. It really was amazing to receive such a response, especially from the person who prompted the first fic and some fanfic writers who I have enjoyed reading myself.

In the mean time, I recommend you read other fem!Jon stories because it's definitely my favourite niche in the asoiaf fandom.


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